Insanity
by trippycookie
Summary: Downright insanity was what it was.


_**Disc: Don't own Fringe or anything else I might've mentioned here... blah blah.**_

**_This is pretty much just Peter and Liv's thoughts near the end of Ability. And let it be known that this is my first attempt_ _at any_ _type of fanfic... so give me a break if it totally sucks. Lol._**

_**Oh, and thanks for the beta, Zaedah. And Lolita Tides for the inspiration with her awesome Waltstrid stories. :)**_

* * *

He didn't know why he'd come back, to be honest.

It could've been that he didn't want to die a coward. He knew he didn't have enough time to get to safety, and there was no place to ride it out. Even in the elevator. Yes, it was surely the fact that he'd much rather have died in action - this time, disarming a bomb- rather than spend his last breaths being poked and prodded by curious doctors who only cared fro information on the newest medical mystery. He involuntary shivered at the thought, memories of his childhood and Walter's 'games' coming back to haunt him. Or, he'd never admit this out loud, but perhaps what he felt for Agent Dunham was more than as he described, "just a friend". Maybe a little bit of **both**?

There was one thing he was certain of, however; she was insane. She couldn't really believe that she could disarm a bomb composed of lights and wires simply with her mind, could she? Jones was trying to break her, to get under her skin. She was risking her life on the word of a man who'd not only planned her kidnapping but had just broken out of a German prison using his mentally-impaired father's homemade time-traveling machine. Now he'd seen many crazy things since he'd come back to Boston to free Walter from St. Claire's, but this was too much. Even more so than the freaky human that mutated into a monster. Or the fact that Olivia had been in the tank a total of four times without even a single trace of a health problem. Downright insanity was what it was. She was out of her mind. He could see it, why couldn't she?

The ring signaling that the elevator had arrived at his floor -47, his almost-perfect memory reminded him, despite the desperate situation- shook him out of his thoughts and he rushed inside. He realized he was shaking slightly, probably from all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Facing death could do that to you. Which brought him back to his original train of thought: the matter at hand. He didn't really want to die running, did he? That was all he ever did in life. Run. In a quick change of heart, he slipped through the elevator doors just as they were about to close. Ignoring the horrible feeling in his gut he always got when something was about to go terribly wrong, he ran back to her.

_He _was insane.

* * *

She was terrified.

He could see it in her eyes. At first he thought it was sheer stupidity. Only someone out of their right mind could truly believe they could disarm a bomb by turning off lights with their brain. ...Right?

Only when he saw the unshed tears and the slight shake to her figure through the reflection in the glass window did he realize how truly frightened she was. He instantly regretted his decision to flee. Here this woman was, staring death in the face and he'd bolted. Like a coward, intimidated by a bunch of tiny light bulbs and jet black wires - no red... and no other way to disable it. Of course, they _were_ wired to a bio-weapon that, if released, caused your nasal passages to shut and you'd suffocate to death, but that's all he really was; an ignoble coward.

He truly believed that he was going to die. But at least, he thought, she wouldn't have to do it alone.

That's why, admittedly, it came as a surprise when, one by one, the lights clicked out.

* * *

Olivia was baffled. The whole building was still intact, and she hadn't even touched the bomb.

She was standing there, shaking like hell, when Peter finally came to his senses.

Totally astonished, he gasped as the relief flooded through, "You did it. What was that? How did you do that?"

It took her a second to reply, and all she could think of was, "I don't know... I don't know."

She felt short of breath and she convinced herself it was the adrenaline rush, not some side effect of the so-called mental feat. Jones was tricking her. He must've timed the lights to go off when the countdown ended and the bomb detonated. She willed the doubt out of her mind. Besides, the cortexaphan trials were in Ohio, not Jacksonville. She couldn't have possibly done that with her head. He'd planned it all. It was just a stupid mind game. Jones just wanted to get inside her head and make her scared.

...Right?

Peter was instantly by her side when the vertigo hit. He enveloped her in his arms and she couldn't help but let the tears fall. He muttered soothing words whilst rubbing soft circles on her back and she, after a few minutes in his embrace, was able to relax, if only a little.

They were so involved in themselves that they didn't notice the lightboard flicker _green, green, green, red_ before becoming dark again.

They both were still shaking when the cops arrived.

* * *

Liv sighed, running her hands over her ponytailed hair. She was exhausted. Her day had gone from and other normal day -well, as normal as one working in the Fringe division with the Bishops can be- to disarming a bomb with her mind and having the same **s.o.b.** that set her up escape a hospital by blasting through the wall... with nothing but himself. What had really shaken her, though, were the two words scrawled across the wall right next to the massive hole.

_**"You Passed"**_

What the hell? Jones wasn't really serious about that 'test', was he?

She should've taken Peter up on his offer. A drink (or five, as he'd suggested) was just what she'd needed. She shivered in her sweats and took another sip of whiskey. It was her second bottle, so she knew she was going to be nursing a hangover tomorrow, and just thinking of it made her unconsciously massage her temples. The sound of her phone going off didn't even register until the third ring.

She was about to just let it go to voicemail when she gave up and checked the caller-ID.

Nina Sharp.

* * *

**_Should it be TBC? Suggestions are always appreciated. :)_**


End file.
